The Village
by kawaiikitty61
Summary: Margate is a girl unusual than others. She doesn't want the usual run of the mill life. She wants action packed adventure, and she gets it when her teacher is suddenly attacked...


She walked down the pebbled path under the shade of the trees. The hot,  
summer sun had gotten to many of the locals, but not Margate. Other  
villagers were visibly withered and worn from the heat.  
While other people might be looking for a nearby stream or pond, Margate  
might be relaxing under the broad canopy of the forest. Just as today.  
She strode through a large plot of straggling bush, dried from the heat-  
stimulated weather.  
That's when she heard a deafening voice from a tree trunk nearby,  
"Margate! Margate! Come here this very instant! Stop diddle-dawdling  
around in those old backwoods! You've got work to do! And I'm here to  
tutor you about it! Now get over here! You may never neglect your duties  
to this village!"  
So, Margate obeyed her defiant elder, and floundered out of the forest,  
while she rambled up the steep hill that led her to the scanty village  
that she had made her dwelling.  
By the time she got finished scaling the hilltop, she was out of breath  
from the summit. She scrambled to the cabana at the edge of the village  
where she had her lessons each day before noon. It was the smallest  
cabana in the entire village, at the time, and it got clammy and humid  
when entering through the flimsy straw door at the entrance.  
"I'm here, I'm here, where should I start Madame Broaden?" Margate  
blurted as soon as she dashed through the door, catching her breath.  
Madame Broaden quickly gathered the grand book with her outspread hands  
from atop the gantry on the table before her, obviously trying to hide  
something. "You are late again Miss Larsen! That is the second time this  
week, and I will not be taking any more excuses from you!" Madame Broaden  
hoarsely said in a deaf defying tone. Margate blushed at her absence of  
thought and asked Bloody Broaden (as she has always called her in her  
conscious), "Pardon me, what was that?" Brutally, Madam Broaden yelled,  
"Get your head out of yanderous things, and concentrate on what's  
important in life, nursing your children and cooking for the men!"  
Margate had never understood the meaning of life without purpose. As  
Madame Broaden had thought, life was cooking, cleaning, and nursing for  
all women. Like she should know!  
But, as her apprentice, she must obey her elders, even if their thoughts,  
and opinions were naïve and childish themselves. First, Madame Broaden  
taught her how to crosshatch her clay pottery. Her first cross-hatching  
was a definite beginner, for it bared many angled scratching and uneven  
siding. Madame Broaden didn't give Margate immunity until her fifth  
perfect pot in a row with even siding, and all the right curves. By the  
time she got that finished, it was nightfall, and Margate was beginning  
to feel ravenous with hunger.  
She ran all the way to her cabana. She opened the sturdy wooden door with  
a type of eagerness that only comes from a famished feeling. Margate felt  
weak with emptiness as soon as she came through the portal of the cabana.  
It could have been from her entirety of hopelessness, or could have been  
her voracious appetite, but which ever it was Margate didn't like the  
feeling. She sat down at the homely carved wooden table she had gotten  
from the village craftsmen, and rested her chin upon her arms. She  
groaned with pain at her odd stricken fingers and angular wrists. Her  
dried and cracked hands definitely needed work with their slow and  
repetitive smoothening around the pots she would make the next day.  
But, she got back up, and with every step to the pantry she felt as if  
she were to collapse. Finally, she gave up and stumbled to the ancient  
and aged bed in the far corner of the cabana. She flopped onto the creaky  
old bassinet. She stared at the leak in the hatched roof from all of the  
left over rain they had gotten and suddenly remembered a time that she  
had with her old tribe at her old village. They had a leak in the straw  
hut her family had lived in, and it trickled down into the grimy rock and  
dirt at the foot of her bed. That was very much like how she was feeling  
then. Every single drop of water wouldn't matter, unless there was a  
large puddle that fell through the roof. Unless Margate had someone else  
to confide in, to conceive her thoughts with, there wasn't any point of  
her existence. No point of her persiety in the journey of life.  
She fell back into reality, and sighed in relief that the delinquents had  
spared her life. That they had privileged her. They could have enslaved  
her, kept her for cooking, amongst other chores that men would never have  
figured out how to do for they were taught how to hunt and fight, not to  
wash and cook.  
A drop of water trickled down her forehead, leaving a purified stripe  
dirtied on her head. She slanted off to the side of her bassinet, and  
almost fell to the ground in a huff, but with one hand she steadied  
herself, and with the other she cupped it together, and placed it under  
the steady flow of raindrops from the leak. She brought her full hands to  
her mouth, and drank with amiable manners. She touched every last bit  
from her parched lips, coating the back of her arid throat, until none of  
the water was left in her hands. Soon, she fell asleep, uncovered,  
wishing and hoping that tomorrow would be a whole different day.  
  
The next day she was sore to the bone, and barely moved when she heard  
what usually would have been Madame Broaden's voice awaking her from her  
heavenly sleep. However today, there was a young woman standing at the  
door when Margate opened it," Hello, I am Sonja, and I have come with a  
message from Madame Harton. Madame Broaden has fallen ill today, so your  
lessons will be post-pone until she is well again. However, you will be  
working with Madame Harton and I instead today. Come quickly and quietly,  
with me, so you may meet with her," the girl said to her in a  
compassionate tone of voice, as if she felt sorry for Margate.  
It wasn't until they stepped out of the cabana that Margate remembered  
the name the girl had given her at the door from a while ago but she  
couldn't point out exactly where she remembered the name. Compared to  
Margate's harsh, jagged splashes of expressions, and feelings gone  
covered, she was polite looking, and soft. With every step of the way  
they traveled, she was careful about where she placed her feet, how  
lightly, even which direction they were pointing at.  
It almost annoyed Margate to think about how she had been she was a small  
child, scavenging for food like a being that had never heard of the word  
full.  
When they got to the cabana, Margate was astonished at the place the girl  
stopped at. She had led her down a long path to the Weaver's cabana! She  
was very wealthy, and Margate had been told that once, she had sold her  
loom to get a diamond pendant in the village next door to theirs. Of  
course, Margate had never really believed any one about her, because a  
Weaver wouldn't sell her loom for all the riches in the world, but  
Margate thought there might have been a chance she had sold something  
else for it.  
The girl motioned for her to enter the cabana, and Margate did so. As  
soon as she climbed up the towering ladder that lay before them, Margate  
asked "How much farther is it gonna be ma`am?." But her question was  
answered when they came to the top of the ladder; they stepped onto a  
platform that led straight to the door. They entered the blanket-covered  
entrance, and Margate struggled down the large marble step. Margate knew  
exactly why all those people told gossip about Madame Harton's wealth.  
The entrance room was filled with lush carpeting, and patterned walls,  
and there were a couple of chairs set aside in the hall to her left. But,  
to her right, was an entire different story. There were loads and loads  
of tall, spindly Cherry Oak wood shelves, lined up with hundreds of  
leather bound novels set on them neatly in an organized fashion.  
Sonja looked at Margate as if she was a stranger to the fine and gentle  
antiquities and furnishings. Then she said, "Oh, I see, you're new to  
these kind of people, aren't you? I'm sorry for rushing you into this so  
fast, expecting you just to walk past it all. I was a lot like you when I  
first came here too. You'll get used to it, though. I surely know I did."  
  
But Margate thought she would never get over it. It was quite a contrast  
to what Margate had been living in for 14 years. The wooden boards  
beneath her feet never made a sound as she followed Sonja into an even  
larger room than the one prior they had been in.  
A woman was sitting at a colossal loom in the back of the room, and her  
fingers were working madly, it seemed as if they were amuck,  
uncontrolled, out-of-whack, as she stood up and greeted Margate with  
kindness. "Welcome to my cabana. How do you like it? We've remodeled it  
since the last open house we had. I'm not sure it's changed much though,"  
the short woman asked politely. She reminded her of the young girl who  
had led her here. "It's very nice to meet you Madam Harton. I am pleased  
for your guidance in this lesson today. I'm sure Madam Broaden will be  
well again any time soon," Margate tried to sound as classy as they had  
sounded.  
The stubby woman motioned for her to join them in the back of the room,  
so Margate followed them as told. She stumbled her way through piles of  
weavery and blankets. She tripped over a blue threaded parka, and it  
landed on the floor in a heap. Yet, she got no criticism on how clumsy or  
addelheaded she was. Or how she always bumped into something or another.  
"My goodness, are you all right my dear, I'm afraid I haven't cleaned the  
basking room for a while now." the meager woman said to her gently.  
"Now, today you will be working with me on folding tapestries. It is a  
very delicate process, and should be taken to extreme measures to be kept  
unwrinkled. Sonja darling, will you get that tan tapestry on that gantry  
to the left? Maurice Newhart would like that in the basket Fredrick wove  
just the other day. What a jewel! He wove that one of sweet grass. As  
soon as you get the basket, show Margate how to fold the tapestry into  
the baskets we have on display in the closet, will you?" Madam Harton  
said to Sonja. So as Margate watched, Sonja daintily folded the tapestry  
into the basket with care. Her skillful hands softly cushioning the  
tapestry as it flowed into the precious and valuable basket. Unlike  
making pottery, you had to concentrate on your daily-grind, except being  
a weaver doesn't sound half bad, so I wouldn't really call it a daily-  
grind.  
"All done Madam Harton. What shall I do for you next?" Sonja said  
helpfully. "Oh, let's see. I already finished the blanket Miss Jones  
requested from me. I don't believe I've got anything else for you ladies  
to do! You may have the rest of the day off. Do whatever you like, but  
don't be creating any mischief around the village!" Madam Harton  
proclaimed. Margate didn't believe her "Are you joshing me! She's  
serious, right?" "Of course I'm serious! I'm sure you've gotten a respite  
from Madam Broaden before, right? She's a kind heart, that she is," Madam  
Harton replied to the astonished girl. "Uh, um, why yes, of course Bloody  
Broaden's given me a break! You silly goose!" Margate said. "Why, who is  
this 'Bloody Broaden' you talk of? If that is what Madam Broaden wishes  
to be named upon, that's what I shall call her." Madam Harton deemed.  
"Of course, she would love for everyone to call her 'Bloody Broaden'!"  
Margate said sarcastically. "What a meticulous nick-name she has chosen!  
Wouldn't she much prefer Broad, or Ned? Such a rather finical name I  
might add!" Madam Harton suggested. Then quickly Margate said, "Oh no, if  
someone were too call her anything but it she would become terribly  
wretched and beastly. Tis` the only name she should ever want to be  
called after. It does have a sort of ring to it shan't it? Suppose we  
were to make a riddle after it? It should go something like this I  
suppose, so Margate recited the riddle she made:  
  
Bloody Broaden,  
Why are you so blue?  
Bloody Broaden,  
What have you a brew?  
I've some children and clay,  
Stirring up all day,  
There's Jose` and Renee,  
Who came out to play?  
But they straw away,  
From the Mitrawalke` Bay,  
Where they stay,  
And are to play all day,  
So I bag them up,  
And say you may stay,  
For dinner you may,  
But you shan't be the guest,  
You'll be the catch of the day.  
"My goodness, are you quite sure of this my peach?" Madam Harton asked  
her uncertainly. "Oh yes, and be sure when you next visit her you call  
her that! She may fall ill again if you be-little the name," she said as  
she began backing to the door. And with that she turned and ran right out  
the door, Sonja trailing behind her, them giggling and chuckling the  
whole way out the grand portal of the cabana.  
  
"That old fool! She'll believe anything you tell her, she will! And from  
two young waggery girls as well!" Sonja said, all the while bursting with  
laughter from her feet to her head. "Do you really mean anything? I mean,  
if you snuck out of your apprenticeship lessons, you'd be sure to be  
hounded for 'neglecting your duties to the village'," Margate  
impersonated. "It sounds like you've got that one pounded into you a good  
couple of times. We should go to the wood just over that cliff. You've  
ever been there? Well, see there's a stream that runs right through this  
path, so in my spare time I've been building a bridge to get across  
easier. I've set up 5 or 6 rocks across the stream, and they're quite  
sturdy for walking. I dug through the first layer of mud and then placed  
the rocks in the holes. Would you like to see it?" Sonja asked, obviously  
content with her work in the wood. Margate only wished she was that way  
with her apprenticeship.  
But, Margate was eager to see the grand structure Sonja had spoken about,  
so they were off, dodging houses, and small children, playing with their  
home-made rocking horses and leather-bound balls. When they finally made  
it to the start of the wood, Sonja stopped Margate and grabbed some kind  
of walking stick from a nearby tree branch. "Make sure you leave your  
carrier here. This oughtta do for you. Mine is a little ways deeper in  
here. The billet you're holding there is Nicolsan's. But he won't mind a  
bit. No, Nicolsan's a good lad. Just stay close behind me. There are some  
bad folk around here you know. They steal from you, and then run deeper  
and deeper into the forest. There's one particular tribe that not only  
takes your krigs, but also your clothing, and any other items you may  
have been carrying. That's why I didn't want you to take your carrier  
with you in here. It must be very important to you; I know I'd never lug  
that big thing around with me! Not for a million krigs, that such would  
get stolen for sure," Sonja explained, all the while warning Margate to  
watch out for that Hickory branch, or those overgrown roots up ahead.  
Margate's little patch of forest was surely much newer than Sonja's. Then  
again, newer isn't always better.  
"And, here we are. Just watch for these little guys," Sonja warned once  
again, quickly and swiftly catching a small insect with her palm. Margate  
was astonished at her craftiness, and tried just as Sonja did a minute  
before. "Oh no, I wouldn't try that without practice! They cling to your  
clothing, so they have a nice cozy place to stay, but after a while they  
will wear away the cloth, and cause holes. They're only attracted to dry  
ones though, and from what I look like, you probably look the same. It's  
all the dew around here. But that's a good thing," she counseled.  
But, as they walked across the bridge that Sonja had made, a rock began  
to slip behind Margate, and then another, and another. "Oh, my! What has  
ever happened to the bridge?" Sonja asked as they looked upon the rocks,  
flowing downstream with the rest of the water. "I'm terribly sorry, but  
it just began to collapse all of a sudden. I can't explain what happened,  
it just did," Margate purgered. "Oh, it's quite all right, coming from my  
point of view of course, but wait till hears about this. He'll be furious  
with you. He's the one who stayed all day here to dig the holes in the  
muck and mud. He's the one who built up a dam to keep all the water out  
while he was building it. He's the one who wore a separate stream through  
here to have another source of water. He's the one who will over-boil on  
you if you don't take him out of the sun quickly enough," Sonja  
explained.  
Just then, they heard a voice coming from afar. "Sonja, where are you!  
Sonja! Come out; come out, wherever you are! I know you're somewhere  
around here. I found your tracks in the pathway. Don't think you can hide  
from me! I know about your little secret!" the hustling, deep voice  
teased. Margate at once thought to herself 'He knows about the bridge,  
the bridge I've destroyed! He'll really be mad now. With all the work  
he's been doing here every day, I'd be piping angry as well!' Then a  
young boy about Margate's age appeared on top of a firm fallen tree,  
holding her carrier in one hand, a red apple in the other. "Who are you?"  
he asked taking a bite out of his apple, juice dripping down his lips. It  
made Margate terribly hungry, for she hadn't had a bite to eat all day.  
She had hardly noticed how short he was until he climbed down from the  
tall, sturdy log. "Heya, whatta ya` starin at? Ain't ya ever seen a  
champion?" the boy asked obviously offended. "Oh, uh, me? Nothing,  
absolutely, nothing. Why would I stare at someone like you?" Margate  
replied willfully to the stubby boy. He threw the apple into the water,  
and rolled his over-grown sleeves up to his elbows. He clenched his fists  
and crooned to Margate, "Ya` wanna fight, come on sissy, I know ya`  
scared!" He swung one shrimp sized hand at Margate, and she condemned the  
fist in one hand, while with the other she swayed her wrist to join with  
the boy's eye. Slap! Went her fist, Ahhhhh! went the boy who had so  
fearlessly taken up a fight with Margate Lanbrell Schmitt. Ohhhh nooo!  
went Margate remorsefully. "I knew it was never a good idea, I knew it, I  
knew it! When my father taught me how to fight, he shoulda` never taught  
me how to punch. That was never the brightest thing he ever did".  
"What the heck did you do? That sissy changed into sassy real quick," the  
boy said awe fully back at Madam Harton's cabana. "You have got to teach  
me that one sometime!" the boy got all excited as Madame Harton lay his  
head back down on the lavender-colored pillows. " Maybe sometime after  
you get some medicine and rest. Sonja, will you get his mother, Miss  
McAughfre`? She be worried sick that her boy's been in a choma for an  
hour from a potter! I thought I'd never see the day!" " Me neither! That  
swipe just `bout gave me my train ticket ta heaven the way you hit them  
there rocks!," The boy added, and Madam Harton forced his head down onto  
the pillow with a plonk! "Hey! Whadja` do that for!?! I was just bout ta`  
lay down. Phewi! I'm glad I's homeschooled as an harvester! I ain't be  
dealin with some cranky old moth-eaten hag!," the boy said. At this point  
in the story I am glad to tell you that we may now name the boy as Miss  
McAughfre` hoisted herself up the steep ladder and through the front  
entrance of the villa. "Freigt Minchete` McAugfre`! What've I told ya`  
bout startin` fights lilke this?!? This is the last sativa! If I hadn't  
bickered bout it once, I slandered bout it again!" And with that Miss  
McAugfre` pulled the boy up by his ear and lead him out of the cabana,  
and down the ladder, all the while clenching onto the cockle of the poor  
boy's ear until she was back in their humble home.  
By then it was getting dim, so Sonja led Margate back to her meek  
shelter. `That was probably the most exciting day of my entire life! I  
hope that Bloody Broaden never becomes healthy again! Ha! For all I care  
she can move on outta here.! That's just it!If I can somehow get her to  
move away, then I'd never have to have training with her again! That'd be  
the day!'  
"Now if I can just find something to inscribe on. Hmmm, here we go,"  
Margate mumbled thoughtfully to herself. She wilted down to the dirt  
floor and began curving her finger in the shape of an ear. She then made  
a small dot right in the middle of the ear to resemble the hole in which  
typical people hear from. Then she drew an eye in the filth. She carved a  
straight line from the ear to the edge of her bed to give the impression  
of someone listening to something. She had the perfect plan. She would  
masquerade a section of the forest to look like a nightmare, then bring  
Bloody Broaden into the forest and scare her by saying that they were all  
the devil's imps and parishers, and that this was where we sacrificed  
adolecent brood for the devil. Yes, it was brilliant! If that wouldn't  
scare her off, then what would?  
The next morning instead of Sonja knocking on her door to serenly awake  
her from her divine sleep, there was a hard and solid bang!, bang!, bang!  
This awoke her loudly vociferiosly so that she fell right off of her cot.  
"Ya better wake up, or I'll wake you up! Now get outta bed ya lazy,  
slothful, sluggish, ungrateful, unhabitual insect!! The door was bashed  
open because of course the small dwelling hadn't a single lock on it's  
entrance. The sluggish woman lethargically walked over to Margate's  
bedside, and flopped what little of her straw-stuffed stocking mattress  
over onto the other side, flipping Margate straight off her behind, and  
onto the cold, hard dirt floor. This was a rude awakening, but they were  
the least of Margate's worries. She was worried whether her greatly  
divised plan would work or not. The ear and eye was dusted from beneath  
Margate's sore body, and Madam Broaden lugged her out of the door, and  
back down to the edge of the village, where she had her daily lessons.  
Today was an additional-hard work day, since the orders from yesterday  
were still waiting for them at the front door. There were small pieces of  
parchment nailed to the door, with the orders for new pottery to made.  
There was an order from Fredick Hanslene to 'make five pots by the next  
afternoon', which was this afternoon. Madam Harton took a glance at some  
of the other errands that the village people demanded of the potter. She  
grunted, then put the lock in the key of the knob. After all, who would  
leave quality stoneware ajar? Madam Broaden slammed the door shut behind  
her, and skimmed through some papers left on the table in a clutter of  
confusion. Then suddenly she thrust her head back in pain, and her eyes  
rolled back into their sockets. Her eyes gave Margate a blank stare, and  
Margate scurried out the door to find an aid of some sort.  
"Helpppp! Some one, please, anyone! I need helppppp!," she screamed at  
the top of her lungs, but no one answered, no one came running out of  
their houses to assist the pleading girl. Then she realized that she was  
at the edge of the village, and it was near the break of dawn. No one  
would get up this early on sabath. She scattered her legs as fast as they  
could go to Madam Harton's cabana, and mounted herself up what seemed to  
be the never-ending ladder that bestowed upon her feet. She sprinted  
through the door, and ran into the looming room. Sonja and Mdam Harton  
had already began decending on their daily merits. They both looked at  
her in amazement, because Margate had the element of surprise.  
"Help! Please help! It's Madam Broaden! She just fell back on the floor  
and started twitching and wrathing her body! I'm so terrified! Please  
help!," Margate cried persistantly. "Don't worry! Just show us the way!  
I'll go get the medicine man, and you Sonja will assist Margate to the  
cabana. Now fly as fast as your wings will carry you! Nad  
hurry!!!!!!!!!!"  
And with the words of wisdom, Margate and Sonja didn't fly as fast as  
they could, they ran as fast as they could. When they reached the smallest cabana in the entire village, it was like a shock from the blue.  
Madam Broaden  
was gone.  
"Where is she? You made all this fuss about absoloutely nothing?! Why  
would you do such a drastic thing like that Margate?! Why?!," Sonja asked  
again and again. "She was here, just a minute ago, laying right here, in  
this very spot. Where could she have gone about? She was helplessly ill  
when I last saw her.  
That's when they heard a loud Screech from behind the large cabinet where  
they kept all of their pottery.  
"Let's get out of here and warn Madam Harton that she isn't here, so she  
can halt the progress of the medicine man. Whoever, or whatever took the  
body definitely wants to be hidden,and not seeken."  
They quickly and cautiously tiptoed out of the cabana, and ran towards  
the market, which was sure to be closed this time of night. But the girls  
didn't need fresh vegtables and poultry. They need to get to the Herb  
Department, where the Healer, also known as the Medecine Man lived. " I  
think it's to your left there. Here we are," Sonja pointed out, but to  
their dismay, there was a flickering candle lit from inside of the shop.  
"We're too late. She's already waken him up.  
That's when they heard whispering voices from the second floor. Suddenly  
a flash of radiance dance upon the windowsill. There was definitely  
someone on the second floor. But who? They had to know, or else they'd  
never find out the charade of where Madam Broaden's flinching body had  
gone to.  
"Come along this way," Sonja hoarsley whispered to Margate as she  
motioned for her to come with her through the back alley way. Without  
another sound, Margate followed her into the dark lane. There was an odor  
from another building, but they couldn't figure out what it was.  
That's when they heard a sharp piercing noise from the second level, like  
a cat screaming. "We should get out of here, and fast!," Margate said in  
a hushed voice. "No! If we ever want our lives to be normal again, then  
we have to find out what happened to Madam Broaden!," Sonja replied.  
That's when the candle in the second floor flickered out, as well as the  
shop floor candle.  
Then Maragte set off down the road, running. Sonja gave a deep sigh, then  
followed her, trying to catch up with her. She ran all the way back to  
the edge of the forest, then tripped right over a mossy fallen tree.  
Sonja took the chance to ensnare her. "What do you think you're doing!?  
Whoever was up there was sure to hear you and I, you, looking like your  
life depended upon it, and me just trying to follow you! That was a  
dangerous move, Margate!," Sonja half-yelled to her.  
"Well, if you really want to know, my life doesn't really matter much  
anymore to me now. Then again, it never really did. The lessons and all  
didn't matter at all to me, neither did my home. It's not actually a real  
home, though. Homes are filled with people who love, and care about you.  
But I live by myself. I feed myself, and I used to dread working every  
day.But that's when you came to the door that one morning. You gave my  
life meaning. You gave my cabana existance! And now, what do I have?  
Another mystery gone unsolved. And you want to know what other mysteries  
haven't been solved? Well, I'm going to tell you anyways. When I was ten  
years old, a band of vigilantes stormed through my old village, and  
burned all of the huts down to the ground. There was nothing left but me.  
Little old me, and I still don't understand why God gave me the strength  
to go on. I hid in the old Oak forest. The remains are still there,  
though. Right on the other side of this forest, lays my parents, my  
meaning. And if you want to take all that away from me, then that's fine.  
Cause there ain't much left here." Margate said sobbing, as she pointed  
to her heart.  
Sonja held Margate in her arms for a few minutes, and when Margate was  
strong enough to gather all of her fears, and lock them up tight, they  
headed swiftly back towards the market. By then the sun was rising, and  
the market was filled to the top with women dressed in rags, and children  
holding their other siblings so they wouldn't get lost.  
"I'm pretty sure we're too late. Why do__," And that's when they both  
heard a scream, much like the one they had heard last night, at the  
Medecine Man's shop. None of the village people seemed to hear it, and  
even if they did, they must have been ignoring it, because it came again,  
and no one scattered for their lives.  
"We have to find who, or what is making that noise, and fast!," Sonja  
said. But Margate just continued to stare into space. Not exactly space,  
but it might as well have been. "Hello," Sonja said, annoyed as she waved  
her hand in front of her face. With that she jumped back into reality, or  
so Sonja thought. "Phewwe! You really scared me there for a second. I  
thought you were one of those zombie things you always hear people  
telling stories about," Sonja said relieved. "Of course you did," Margate  
replied.  
"Maybe we should go see Madam Harton and check out what she thinks  
about the whole thing. A couple of days ago, I would have never thought  
I'd be a detective! But then again, I didn't think I'd ever see someone's  
death! That'll stick with me for the rest of my life, that I'm sure of!!"  
"Margate, you're acting sorta funny. Are you sure you're okay?  
Margate! Oh no, it's gotten to you as well. We need to get to Madam  
Harton, and fast," Sonja said panickly to Margate, though she hadn't  
heard a word she just said. She kept ignoring her concerning looks, and  
attempts to move her.  
Finally, Sonja decided that she'd be better off with just getting  
Madam Harton, and coming back to Margate, so she left for the cabana.  
When she got there, she climbed up the ladder, and stormed into the  
house. She ran into the weaving room as fast as she could, finding that  
there were so many doors and holes in which you could climb into. Even  
though Sonja had lived in this cabana for 7 years, she still didn't know  
exactly where everything was.  
When she finally got to the correct room, she told Madam Harton all  
about the shrill cries, and about how peculiar Margate was acting, and  
surprisingly enough, she acted as if she had been expecting something  
like this for a long while. She got out a staff from the closet, pulled a  
sprig of Rosemary and a leaf of mint, and opened the staff's top. She  
dropped the ingredients into the ball, and pushed it back down into the  
top. It was instantly crushed, and a few aromatic fumes arouse from the  
top of the staff. They both hurried out of the door, and when they got to  
the place where Sonja had left Margate, they found that she was no longer  
there.  
That's when Madam Harton spotted her at a drumstick stand, smelling  
the lusciously roasting dark meat on the kabobs a short, portly man was  
selling for six krigs a piece. She hovered of the stand, and soon the  
man ushered her out of the way of his on-coming customers.  
Madam Harton and Sonja hurried over and grabbed each of Margate's  
arms, struggling to keep her weight, for she was throwing a tantrum, and  
kicking her legs at passer-by. 


End file.
